


Anchored

by fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin), LoonyLupin



Series: Ouroboros: Aodhan Trevelyan X Dorian Pavus [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Quest: Here Lies the Abyss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Here Lies the Abyss, Romantic Fluff, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6771979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/fanfoolishness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aodhan Trevelyan struggles with lingering doubts after the journey through the Fade; Dorian tries to protect him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchored

Was he real? **  
**

Creatures scrabbling in his mind, stone floating in the air before him, his boots soaking in water that didn’t _feel_ like water but was –

Was he really free?

Aodhan Trevelyan stood at the edge of the Inquisition camp, squinting against the wind-blown sand and the setting sun in the Western Approach.  He ached; oh, how he ached.

Someone had set up a tent for him.  He wavered on his feet beside it, grateful.  He wasn’t sure if he would have been able to manage the setup tonight, even if he’d tried to use magic to help himself.  He was too exhausted.  Part of him wanted nothing more than to sleep.

He shivered, and though the evening desert air had a biting chill to it, it was not the cold that made him shudder.  Sleep would bring the Fade.

“Aodhan.”

Dorian’s voice sounded… different.  Shaken.  Aodhan turned around, glad to see him, but also feeling awkward; he had wanted to be alone.  Or had he?  Was that something he had really thought, or only something he _thought_ he’d thought –  No.  He was here.  He was real.  This was _not_ the Fade.

“They’ve said you’re all right?” Aodhan asked.  Dorian looked rumpled, distinctly the worse for wear; his outer robes had several tears in them, his hair stuck up in places, and dark circles ringed his eyes.  Aodhan supposed that he himself must look much worse.  He always felt plain next to Dorian’s brilliance.

“Nothing a bit of healing magic couldn’t knit up,” said Dorian, managing a jaunty grin that did not reach his eyes.  “Though of course they only took care of the worst injuries.  There were rather a few soldiers who needed far more attention than I.  And yourself?”

“Sprained my wrist in there somehow, landing, I expect.  Scratches all over.  Bruised everywhere, with bruises on the bruises.”  He winced.  “They healed up the worst of the lot, but I still feel as if a cart ran over me.”

“You should get some rest.”

“Yes.  We both should.”  Aodhan hesitated, then charged forward.  “But that said, I’d… rather not be alone.  Not tonight.”

Dorian gave him a suspicious look.  “Are you certain?  It’s always been separate tents when we’ve traveled.  I didn’t wish to press you in such close quarters, much as I might like to.”  He was right; so far they had only slept together at Skyhold, or when they could make up some excuse while traveling to wander away from the main campsite.  Aodhan hadn’t been sure what the others might think about him and Dorian together right there at camp, and Dorian hadn’t asked.  They had only been sleeping together a few weeks, and it still felt new and fragile in some ways, both of them eager, but uncertain.  

Aodhan looked at him, smiling a little.  “I don’t care, Dorian.  Tonight, especially, I want you there with me.”  He tried to sound brave; he thought there was only a little quaver, thin beneath his words.  “The others can sod off if it bothers them.”

Dorian closed the space between them suddenly, pulling Aodhan into a tight embrace, resting his head on Aodhan’s shoulder.  Aodhan hugged him back, closing his eyes, focusing on the way Dorian felt in his arms.  Solid.  Warm.  Real.

Dorian pulled back, cocking his head to one side.  “Well, then,” he said, “lead the way.”

It was but a moment before they were both in the tent, which was blessedly larger than the small tent he usually lugged along on expeditions.  No, this was a fine tent befitting the Inquisitor, practically tall enough to stand in, easily wide enough for them both to lay in.  Someone had thoughtfully stocked it with plenty of blankets.  

Aodhan sank like a stone to a sitting position, letting out a loud sigh.  He bent over to begin unbuckling his boots, working them off with clumsy, aching hands.  He bit his lip, frustrated at how difficult the small task was.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired,” he said.  Then he shook his head.  “No, never mind.  Marching out of Haven half-dead in a blizzard, _that_ was the worst.  But this is rather the worst in a different way.”

Dorian groaned, falling to his knees, hands working at the buckles of his armor.  “It’s times like these I regret being so astonishingly fashionable.  Looking this good does require a modicum of effort, which I am sadly lacking after our ill-fated journey.”

“At least we made it,” Aodhan bit out, working on the outer layer of his armor, the boots crumpled in front of him.  “Stroud _stayed_ for us.”  His eyes pricked, and he bit his lip again, hard enough that he tasted blood.  “None of this was his fault, but he sacrificed himself for us.  I wish… I wish it had gone differently.”

Dorian huffed, bundling up his armor beside his boots, clad only in his trousers.  His chest, lean and well-muscled, looked scratched and bruised.  Aodhan pulled off his armor and his shirt, and looked down at himself, significantly less well-muscled but rather more bruised.  He shoved his boots and armor out of the way and flopped down onto his back, closing his eyes.

Dorian joined him, then shifted to his side, sliding one arm beneath Aodhan’s shoulders and draping the other over him.  He let out a deep breath, head nestled in the crook of Dorian’s neck.   _This is real._

“I wish we could have saved him,” said Dorian.  He stroked Aodhan’s back with one hand, lazy tracings with his fingertips.  “But you’re here.  That’s the most important thing.”  His fingers stopped.  “When we fell into the chasm, into the Fade –”  Aodhan could feel him tremble.  “I thought you were done for.  I don’t know if I can forgive you for that.”

Aodhan raised his head.  “Forgive me?  But you were there with me the entire time!”

“For making me think you were dead!”  Dorian glared at him, clearly tormented.  “You sent me ahead and then didn’t follow!  For a moment, I was certain you wouldn’t.”  He looked pale, his mouth twisting to one side.  “I thought, _this is it!  This is where I lose him forever!_ ”

Aodhan kissed him, mouths colliding, Dorian’s lips firm against his, his tongue warm and wet.  He didn’t know how to say what was in his head except with desperate kisses.   _You cared.  You worried.  You hoped.  I’m sorry._  He pulled back, trying not to pant.  “I didn’t realize,” he said breathlessly.  “I never meant to frighten you.”

Dorian smiled at him, and this time it was a full smile, that soft one he gave sometimes after sneaked kisses or knowing remarks.  “Don’t do it again,” he said, trying to look stern and serious.  “Or I might have to punish you.”

“Perhaps I’d like that,” said Aodhan, brushing his lips against his cheek, then relaxing in his arms again.

“Naughty, naughty.”  For a moment they were quiet again, chests rising and falling together, their skin warm against the cool desert air.

Dorian brushed Aodhan’s hair back from his face, his fingers gentle, searching.  “Are you all right?” he asked, gazing at him.

Aodhan closed his eyes.   _Mountains looming in the air above him, pride demons roaring, fears skittering, skittering._  “It was like walking in a nightmare,” he said hollowly.  “Everything was real, but it shouldn’t have been.  I couldn’t –”  He shivered.  “I couldn’t trust myself.”

“I know what you mean.  I’d thought about it before; what mage hasn’t?  But it isn’t meant to be breached.  Not by any mortal,” said Dorian firmly.  “Now more than ever I believe that.  It’s a miracle we made it out.”

“I almost didn’t,” Aodhan said, so quietly he wasn’t sure if Dorian could hear him.

“That blasted demon –”

“It wasn’t the Nightmare,” Aodhan confessed.  “It was the sea.”  

“The… sea?  You mean that part down below, just before we reached the Nightmare?”

“There were boats,” Aodhan said.  “Half-ruined, but there they were floating anyway, and beyond them the sea.  Do you know where Ostwick is?”

“Somewhere in the Free Marches, but I don’t recall further than that.”

“It’s on the shore of the Waking Sea.  We used to visit the seashore frequently.  Father told me that someday, our family would buy a ship for a trading charter.  I wanted so badly to go, past the Waking Sea, into the Amaranthine Ocean.  I wanted to know what lay beyond the map.”  Aodhan saw again the green Fade-light shifting on the water’s surface.  “And a part of me saw the boat, moored out in the water, and I wanted to know where it would go.  If I could go on for ever.”

“Aodhan,” said Dorian.  “Aodhan, look at me.”

Aodhan opened his eyes with an effort.  He was getting so sleepy.  Perhaps he would find the sea in his dreams tonight.

“You mustn’t get on that boat,” said Dorian.  “If you visit there tonight, promise me you won’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know!” said Dorian irritably.  “But you’re concerning me.  I saw the same boat and I thought, _How horrid, where did that come from?_  Boats are wretched.  But even if I got on perfectly with sea travel, I still don’t like the way you speak of this.  We both know that the Fade can play tricks on the mind in the best of visits.  Promise me you’ll be careful, the next time you go into the Fade.”

“All right!” Aodhan snapped.  “You win.  I’ll go sailing no more.  Are you quite pleased?”

Dorian yawned.  “I’d be more pleased if I were awake enough to take full advantage of our time in your tent, but alas, we may have to make a morning go of things instead.  I’m sore in parts I didn’t even know I had.”

Aodhan yawned, too.  “Maker’s breath, Dorian, don’t _do_ that.  It’s contagious.”

“Do what?”  He yawned so widely Aodhan could see each of his bright teeth.  The man really was insufferable sometimes.

***

The water lapped against his feet, his toes curling in the sand, and Aodhan looked up into a bright sun.  He laughed, kicking the waves, watching the water splash around him.  Ostwick was a lovely seaside town, and he was glad to be back.

He wore a bigger version of his old bathing outfit, baggy trousers cropped at the knee.  It looked just like the one he’d had as a boy.  The sun on his back was warm and welcome.  The weather at the Storm Coast might be dreary, but the northern coast of the Waking Sea was usually mild and pleasant.  It was just as he’d remembered it.

For a while he amused himself, walking in the surf, occasionally skipping stones into the sea.  Then he saw the boat.

It was only a dinghy, moored by a simple rope around a stone at the water’s edge, its wood starting to warp slightly.  But beyond the dinghy, the sea stretched beyond, reaching towards an endless horizon, never quite getting there.  Up in the sky, far away, was a dull black city smudging the air, but that was of little consequence.  

An old man saw him staring at the boat, and gave him a little bow.  “My Lord Trevelyan,” he said in a creaking, rusted voice.  “It honors us to have you visit our little part of the shore today.  Your family was here just a bit ago.”

“Thank you,” said Aodhan automatically.  “I couldn’t help admiring your boat.  Will it travel far?”

“It will take you as far as you like,” said the old man, nodding as he spoke.  “Yes, she may not look like much, but she’ll take you beyond.”

“Beyond what?”

“Beyond, my Lord.  Beyond all of this.  The Inquisition.  The Circle.  Danger.  Wouldn’t you like to know what else there is?”

Aodhan stared at him.  There was something familiar about the old fellow, his creased skin, his age spots, his shock of bushy white hair.  Perhaps it was the eyes, flickering now and then with a faint violet.  He was certain he’d seen eyes like that before.

“What would you like for it?” he asked.

“All you have to do is take it,” said the old man.  His voice did not sound so cracked now; instead it was smoother, lusher, almost mellifluous.  “You’re a great Lord, are you not?  It’s yours.”

“I’m not a Lord,” said Aodhan automatically.  “I’m a mage.  I had to give that up when I went to the Circle.”

“That’s nonsense, that is, my Lord.  Pardon me for saying so.”  He beckoned over his shoulder to the sea, its yawning expanse, its waves coursing, slow and inexorable, across its surface.  “Don’t you want to know where it goes?”

Aodhan wavered, looking at the boat.  He’d always wanted –

“Could Dorian come too?” he asked.

The old man looked affronted, violet eyes narrowing suspiciously.  “My Lord, you can see the boat is small.  It will only fit one.  We don’t want you to drown, now, do we?”

“But if I’m to go, Dorian must go with me.”  Aodhan frowned at the old man, frowned at the boat.  He looked to the sea again, and beyond it –

“The Black City,” he mumbled.  “Of course.”

“What city?” the old man asked, peering with one hand over his eyes as if to help himself see.    
  


Aodhan shook his head, fighting a sudden deep and rending sense of loss.  “The Black City.  This is the Fade,” he said.  “And you are a desire demon.”

The old man hissed, then roared, then crumpled into rags at his feet for just a moment until the demon showed itself.  The desire demon stared at him, something like male, something like female, sinuous and beautiful.   “That does not change the fact you want this,” it purred.  “And I can offer it.”

“The price is too high,” Aodhan said firmly.  “You will leave me, demon.  You have no sway here, for this is my dream, and I have said no.”

The demon wept.  It lashed its tail.  It snarled.  But he was not here physically, and he knew who he was, and what he was about.  It could hold no power over him now.  The demon faded away, and as it did, so did the sea, and the shore, and the boat.  There was only solid ground beneath his feet, and the Black City far beyond, and he walked the stones, aching with a sorrow he could not name.

***

“ _Amatus.  Aodhan_ , wake up.”  A voice, anxious, unsure.

Aodhan startled back to himself, looking for what had awakened him.  It was still dark in the tent; he could just barely make out the outline of Dorian, propped up on one elbow.  He realized Dorian was shaking him.  

“I’m awake,” he said thickly.  “What is it?  Are we under attack?”

“I’m not, but what about _you_?” Dorian asked, a note of panic beneath his words.  “I heard you muttering.  It woke me up.  Something about the _sea_.”

Aodhan stiffened, fighting a sinking feeling.  “You were right.”

“Right about what?  You’re not still on about that bloody boat, are you?”  There was a flash, and a sprite of flame flickered in Dorian’s hand.  Aodhan winced against the brightness.

“I went to the sea again in the Fade,” said Aodhan.  “I didn’t mean to.  I found myself there.”  He put his hands over his eyes, blocking out Dorian’s flame, grimacing.  “I was nearly taken in.  It was like being a boy again, back when I first started coming into my magic.  There were so many times I was tempted in the Fade.  This hasn’t happened in _years_.”

“You were exhausted,” said Dorian, “and it’s been a truly hellacious day.  Of course you might not be at your best.  At least nothing happened.”  There was a hint of a question to his statement.  

“No, nothing happened,” Aodhan echoed.  He opened his eyes warily through gaps in his fingers, squinting against the light.  “A desire demon wanted me to get on the boat.  To leave everything behind.  To see what lay beyond.”  

“How did you evade it?” Dorian asked.

Aodhan smiled crookedly.  “I wanted to make sure you came with me.  It didn’t like that.”

Dorian laughed.  “You mean to say you dissuaded a desire demon by saying, ‘no, thank you, not without Dorian’?”

“Yes.  Is that so strange?” Aodhan asked, looking up at him.

Dorian’s gray eyes gazed back at him.  His hair was thoroughly mussed, his mustache beginning to puff out slightly at the ends, his kohl smudged all over.  Aodhan reached up, fingertips tracing over Dorian’s lips.   _Maker_ , but he was lucky.

“Speechless, are we?”  Aodhan smiled at him.  “You do remember that we agreed this would be… more, yes?  I meant it.  I still mean it.”

“I meant it, too,” said Dorian, swallowing.   “It’s simply still difficult to get used to.”  He pressed a hasty kiss to Aodhan’s forehead, extinguishing the flame as he did so, leaving it dark and close in the tent once more.  “I do like it.  Tremendously.”

“Good.  I’m glad that’s cleared up,” said Aodhan, growing sleepy again.  “Come on.  Let’s go back to sleep.  But… thank you for waking me.”  He paused, something flickering in his memory.  “Dorian?  What does _amatus_ mean?”

Beside him, Dorian grew very still.  “I don’t recall saying that.”

“When you were trying to wake me.  You called me _amatus_.  It’s Tevene, isn’t it?  Did you not mean to say it?”

Dorian was quiet for several moments.  Aodhan wasn’t certain that he was still awake.  At last he spoke.  “It’s not that I didn’t mean it.  I did.  It’s that I hadn’t fully realized I meant it.”

“That’s still not saying what it means.”

“The literal translation?   _Beloved._ A male partner, specifically.”  He rolled over, facing away from Aodhan.  “And there you have it.  Dorian getting ahead of himself, as usual.  You may ignore that entirely, if you wish, think of it as the slip of a moment –”

Aodhan curled up beside him, fitting himself against Dorian, wrapping his arms around him.  “I love the way you said it,” he whispered.  “I love that you worried for me.  I love that you try to protect me.”

“That’s rather a lot of things about me to love,” Dorian said, stumbling over the last word.

“Yes, well.  Did I not make myself clear?  How foolish of me.”  He inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of Dorian’s hair, sandalwood and juniper.  “Really it’s that I love _you_.”

A sudden intake of breath, then a long, exhaled sigh.  “ _Amatus_ ,” said Dorian, and this time his voice was rich and confident and warm, the word heavy with meaning.  It sounded like it belonged there in his mouth.  “You incredible, bewildering, _devastating_ man.  You’ve… undone me, you realize.”

Aodhan was giddy and tired and content all at once.  He was here with Dorian, not drifting in an endless sea; he was anchored.  He was real.   _They_ were real.  And it was enough.  

“You know you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“No,” said Dorian softly, into the dark.  “I wouldn’t.”


End file.
